When Logic Fails
by JDoe012998
Summary: Spock and Chekov both blame themself for Amanda's death. Spock/Chekov FRIENDSHIP! GET IT THROUGH YOUR HEADS! Sorry. I know people who would think otherwise. Rated T because that's what I always rate stuff. Only warning for mild language in c2, my LONG AN


**A/N: Ok. Here goes nothing. My best friend and I wrote this at 12:16pm local. So… erm…. Yeah. Blame anything on sleep deprivation. Still, I think it's decent. Best thing we've ever written at 12:16, I can say that for sure!**

**A/N2: BTW, yes, we **_**know**_** Spock does not cry! (Although actually, Leonard Nimoy does in TOS) Deal with it! (And by the way, Vulcans **_**feel**_**! They just do not **_**express**_**! Common mistake!)**

**A/N3: We make no attempt at Chekov's accent. Sorry. Just imagine it. You guys are smart!**

**Disclaimer: We do not now, nor have we ever, owned Star Trek. Although… You know, if you could help us get our hands on Spock and Chekov… Muchly appreciated! **

The hall was mostly deserted so late at night, save for the occasional professor or cadet. Very little broke the stillness, except for the opening and closing of doors farther down, and sounds from outside.

Spock walked slowly down the hall, barely making a sound as he glided over the cold tile floor. He stared at the ground as he walked, trying to control the draining sense of exhaustion that had come over him since he had returned to Earth with the crew, along with the mounting sense of anguish and fear that had begun to return. He had hid it well since he had seen Vulcan destroyed and his mother killed – but now it was returning, and it threatened to overpower him as he walked alone through the quiet building.

Perhaps the worst part was having no one to blame. Nero, yes, was responsible in principle. But he hadn't understood the dire consequences. Not to mention that no one knew where the bastard was now. So what good would blaming him have done?

The fact was that the only person Spock could blame was himself. Himself for not catching on faster, for letting go his mother's hand. Himself, for watching her fall and not at least trying to go after her.

A chill went through him as he remembered the look on his mother's face just before she had fallen. His vision blurred for a moment and the blue and white of the tile floor at his feet swam together. He looked up suddenly as he heard footsteps behind him and turning, he saw Chekov walking quickly towards him, his face pale. Spock shook his head and pulled himself up to his full height.

"Commander?" Chekov looked worried. "May I speak to you, sir?"

"Yes," Spock regarded him calmly.

"I am sorry to disturb you so late. I…" The boy faltered, "I wanted to apologize, sir."

"I believe you have just done so. Twice."

Chekov blushed. "Well… Yes sir. But I did not mean… About now. I want to apologize… About on the _Enterprise_. About your mother, sir. I should have been faster… It was my fault…that she…" his voice wavered and he looked down. "I'm sorry, sir," he said again.

It had never occurred to Spock that he should blame Chekov for his mother's death. The boy had simply not been capable of transporting her onto the ship, due to the circumstances. He had not had enough practice at it, and he was still only a young boy. It was not logical or fair to blame him for anything.

"Thank you, Chekov," Spock said, "But you can't blame yourself. You would have been unable to do anything for her."

"But I might have, sir!" Chekov burst out. "What if I had been faster? What if I had… if I had only…" he shook his head, trailing off. "Commander, I…apologize…for having done this to her, and to you, sir."

Spock thought for a moment. It was true that someone more experienced might have had a better chance. Still, however, the boy was seventeen. For him to expect to be equal to anyone aboard the _Enterprise_ was odd enough. The fact that he _was_, was incredible. Still, that didn't make him anymore than a child.

And even if Chekov _did_ blame himself… Upon thinking the matter through, Spock… Did not.

After a pause, Spock replied, "It is… Highly illogical for you to blame yourself for something over which you had no control. No one could have foreseen any of the events that day, the ledge on which my mother stood breaking among the rest. It would have been difficult for nearly anyone to save her."

Chekov nodded solemnly and did not reply.

"None of us was solely at fault, Chekov," Spock continued, "Though many of us could feel that we alone should take the blame. I, for one, felt…I thought that perhaps if _I_ had held onto her longer, then she would have been safely transported back onto the _Enterprise_. But that, of course…" he paused. "We must not speculate too long upon the past, because it cannot be changed." His voice grew quieter and he fought back the exhaustion and aching anxiety that had returned, suddenly, and threatened to envelope him. Why was it so painful, still? He thought, feeling somewhat irritated with his lack of self control… He should have been done with these emotions long ago.

"If you had held on, sir, you would have followed her." Chekov said softly, looking at the ground between them. "You would have followed her and been lost as well. Would have left the _Enterprise_ without an acting captain, left Uhura… Left your father alone."

Spock looked briefly to the young man. That was true. Still, the fact didn't make it any less true that there was a chance he could have saved her.

"Perhaps. But I wonder, Ensign, if logic alone could absolve any one of us of guilt."

"No." Chekov looked up to meet his eyes. "Nothing can do that. It is the way humans, and maybe even _you_, are."

Spock looked at the boy and felt the familiar stabbing, tingling feeling behind his eyes that he had held back successfully so many times before. Now, to his surprise, he felt tears form in his eyes, and he blinked hard in an attempt to restrain them. He reached up a hand to run across his eyes, but instead kept it pressed firmly against his face for a moment.

After a minute, he lowered his hand and his gaze met Chekov's again. The boy was staring at him with a look of thinly disguised amazement.

"You are right," Spock said calmly. "We all will feel guilt. And it will be just as difficult for me to rid myself of it completely as it will be for you."

They stood in silence, and finally Spock shook his head. "Come, Ensign," he said. "You must have your duties to return to."

"Yes… Yes, I do." Chekov nodded. "Goodnight, sir." With a small smile, the boy turned and retreated down the hall, stopping once before he turned the corner to look back at Spock. "You _are_ half human, sir. There is no shame in being what you are."

Spock nodded once as the Russian disappeared from view. Chekov simply could not know what he was saying, or at least not what it would mean. But the fact that he had said it was enough.

There was no shame in being human. Unless one was Vulcan. But then, as Uhura had so often said, he wasn't Vulcan. And he wasn't human. He was just Spock.

And as he turned back down the hallway and entered his office, he finally lost the battle with the emotions he'd brushed aside for so long.

And the tears began to fall.

**A/N: So, what do you think? I love reviews! They make me cry Vulcan tears! And, I'm a hypocrite who hates silent readers, so REVIEW PLEASE!**


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